


Tumbleweed

by blueberryfallout



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, Multi, travelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberryfallout/pseuds/blueberryfallout
Summary: heyyy so i realized that i've reached 500 comments on all my stories, total, and the 500th comment happened to be from bringyourguns, who asked if i was planning to write more preacher fic. whiiiich i wasn't, at least until the show started again, but i really really appreciate you guys commenting, so i wrote this for you :) really hope you like it! for some reason ao3 won't let me gift it though :(





	Tumbleweed

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy so i realized that i've reached 500 comments on all my stories, total, and the 500th comment happened to be from bringyourguns, who asked if i was planning to write more preacher fic. whiiiich i wasn't, at least until the show started again, but i really really appreciate you guys commenting, so i wrote this for you :) really hope you like it! for some reason ao3 won't let me gift it though :(

Jesse squints out over the horizon, doing his best to shield his eyes from the sun. “I reckon we got three, four more hours of daylight,” he says, resting his hip against the driver’s side door.

“Fuckin’ peachy,” Cass says, curled in a ball under a heap of protective blankets in the backseat. He tries sticking a hand out, watching it alight and burn within seconds before snatching it back. “More bloody sun.”

Tulip lifts her head from where she was resting it against her headrest, pushing her hat from over her eyes. “It’s six hours to the nearest hotel, if we drive fast.” And Jesse always drives fast, craving the heart racing thrill of it, she knows. Jesse Custer might be the preacher’s boy but he’s also a daredevil through and through. 

“I’ll drive fast,” Jesse answers, reading her mind as always and heaving himself into the driver’s seat. It’s so hot out that even this barely close proximity is too much for her, making her flinch away into the relative coolness of the plastic door. Jesse’s seats are _leather_ , the monster; they burn her thighs when her skirt hikes up and exposes bare skin.

She twists to look at what she can see of Cass in the backseat. Nothing much, just a skinny, pants wearing leg and the glint of one eerily reflective red eye peeking out from between the folds. She smiles, watching that eye open and close on a wink.

“M’going back to sleep,” she announces, letting her hat fall over her eyes again, breathing in the heavy scent of leather and being worn every day, her breath warming the small space inside the hat within seconds.   
She tilts it up to get some breathing room, catches a glimpse of Jesse watching her with the corner of his mouth tipped up. She wonders when that look will stop making her breath catch, whether she’ll be eighty years old and still having heart palpitations over Jesse Custer. If they live that long. “And don’t bother me with any of that ‘are we there yet’ bullshit, neither. Y’all have GPS for a reason.” 

Cass huffs a laugh in the backseat, daring to reach a hand out and squeeze her shoulder. His skin is always several degrees colder than it should be, which feels good in weather this hot. “Aye, love. We won’t.” Tulip curls further into her seat and shuts her eyes. They’ll wake her up when they arrive.  
*  
At the hotel they fuck and go to sleep; Cass is still a new presence between them, but one they’re rapidly getting used to. It’s kind of nice to have someone else to help push Jesse around a little. Tulip nods off with Jesse spooned up against the curve of her back, her palm on Cass’s chest, feeling his heartbeat, slower than a normal person’s. 

She wakes up an hour or so later to a half empty bed; Jesse’s breathing deep and soothing behind her, but Cass is gone. Tulip untangles herself from Jesse’s grasping, sleepy limbs and gets to her feet. She sore, a little, and sticky between her thighs but otherwise unharmed.

“Cass?” she whispers to the dim room. 

“M’right here,” comes Cass’s sleepy, gravelly murmur near the window. He’s crouched there, peering out at the moonlight soaked parking lot, everything lit with crisp edges in shallow gray. As she watches Cass leans his head against the windowsill, taking a deep breath. 

She watches his boney shoulders rise and fall before putting her hand on one, gripping hard. He can take it. It surprises her sometimes, when Cass effortlessly lifts Jesse or bends steel with his bare hands, how strong he is. Looking at Cass, all bird bones and the lanky, gangly way he stands, it’s easy to forget that he could lift a car. “What’s wrong?” She crouches next to him, enjoying the barest hint of a breeze brushing across her skin. 

“Nothin, dear heart. Go back to sleep.” Tulip has spent her whole life dealing with a stubborn, emotionally constipated man who would rather cut his own heart out than share his feelings. Now, she has two of them. Nothing has changed really. 

“You tell me right now, Cassidy.”

He drops his head; his hands are quivering. “I’m _happy_ , Tulip,” he whispers like he’s confessing a sin. “I’m happy, and I got no bloody idea what to do about it.” 

“Cass…” She curls her arm around his waist, holding on. “That’s a good thing, sugar.” He presses his cold nose into her neck and breathes in; she knows he’s scenting her blood but doesn’t mind if he takes comfort from it. 

“Wanna stay this way,” he says as Jesse gets up, grumbling, and makes his way over to them. 

“Everything okay?” he rumbles, settling on Cass’s other side. 

Tulip touches his cheek, rough with stubble, and lets fondness for them both overwhelm her. “Yeah, Jesse. We’re just fine.”   
*  
“That’ll be $10.96,” the McDonalds cashier says, her bored gaze drifting off over Tulip’s shoulder.

“Can I have ketchup with that?” Tulip asks, juggling her full bag of food. 

“Ketchup is right over there, ma’am,” the cashier says, pointing. 

Tulip grins at her, remembering her hellish days of food service. “Thanks. Y’all have a nice day, now.” 

“You too.” Tulip goes over to where Jesse and Cass are waiting at a table; thank God for 24 hour fast food, is all she can say. Cass waves, surreptitiously scratching his balls. Blood flecks his chin, remnants from a doomed cow a couple hours ago. 

She slides the tray down, wincing at the screech, and snags a fry. “I’m driving,” Cass says after a moment, continuing an argument they’ve been having for hours on and off. 

“You don’t have a license,” Jesse points out. “Cause you technically don’t exist.” 

“I do okay,” Cass says, grinning with too many teeth. “S’not fair, you always driving,” he continues, folding his arms over his chest. “Give a man a chance.” 

“Hm.” Jesse appears to think about it for a second before deciding, “Nah.”

Cass snarls at him, but it’s half-hearted at best, and he ends it with an arm around Jesse’s shoulders. “Fine, you bastard. But I’ll be remembering this.”

“Sure, Cass.”

“Sure, Cass,” he mocks back, and they all laugh.


End file.
